


The Gift

by xHaruka17x



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Familiar Dean, M/M, Minor Character Deaths, Soulmates, Witch Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 15:50:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10030202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xHaruka17x/pseuds/xHaruka17x
Summary: A witch with a fear of his own powers. A familiar with a jaded heart. Could they be soulmates?





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was for the SPN Reverse Bang! My very first bang lol Hope you guys enjoy!  
> Art by the_miss_Iv!  
> // Memories

  


_**///1833 Massachusetts**_  
_Sixteen-year-old Castiel stood frozen, numbly watching the flurry of people in the center of the village. Their small, magical community had gathered, the Crones circling, and all of the whispers converged to a roar in Castiel's ears.  
_  
_This was his fault. He'd gotten cocky, careless...  
_  
_He had been sure he was in complete control of his powers. Then they’d surged suddenly. And he had hesitated, the unfamiliar energy paralyzing him and fear had gripped his heart-  
_  
_Now Alfie was dead. And all Castiel could see is the blood, so much blood that had covered him and Inias.  
_  
_Inias was still screaming, his tears made him sound more like choked moans. But he felt far away to Castiel, his shock clouding around him in a suffocating fog.  
_  
_The forest floor was gone suddenly- he couldn't even recall moving his head, yet he found himself staring into the sad eyes of Crone Rowena, her face was lined with disappointment. He turned away, the shame and guilt were like swords to his gut, only to have his gaze land on Crone Luc’s fuming visage. The disgust in his glare made Castiel's stomach heave as he looked away quickly, trying to swallow down the bile rising in his throat.  
_  
_I killed one of my only friends. I killed -  
_  
_And now his only remaining friend was terrified of him.  
_  
_Castiel couldn't breathe. The thought squeezed all the air from his lungs and he couldn't refill them. It turned all of the sounds around him into a meaningless drone, only one thought breaking through, repeating sharp and clear:  
_  
_I killed him  
_  
_“Castiel! Do you hear me?”  
_  
_Crone Rowena’s grip on his arms felt like knives, and she shook him until he dragged dazed, sky-blue eyes to focus on her.  
_  
_“You are exiled as of this moment, Castiel. If you ever return, the Ombudsmen will kill you. Do you understand? You can never return here.”  
_  
_Her words seem to echo in the hollow where his heart used to live. He looked around slowly, and found only hate and resentment in the eyes of the watching villagers. He jerked his gaze back to the only elder who had ever shown him kindness, and the sorrow in her large, cat-eyes made the world fall away under Castiel's feet.///  
_  
  
**##Now. Rockie Mountains, Colorado. 2017**  
Castiel jolted upright in his bed. His heartbeat was thundering in his ears, racing through his blood, echoing in a painful pulse across his body.  
  
_Blood._  
  
He was covered in it. His nightshirt clung to his body with the hot weight of it. The memories flashed fresh and aching behind his eyes. Castiel wanted to vomit as he dragged his gaze down to his hands to find them... clean. Even in the soft moonlight filtering into the room he could see that they were clean.  
  
_Sweat. I'm sweaty._  
  
Castiel buried his face into his hands, inhaling deep and exhaling slow. He counted each breath, nearly reaching 100 before he had calmed his heart and could breathe normally.  
  
He couldn't help but think of Crone Rowena, with her fire-ginger tresses and feline air. Castiel had always longed to run his hands through the waves, split them apart to shimmering, orange rays of sun.  
  
But the look of sadness in her sharp eyes… All of her kindness he'd betrayed…  
  
Their small witch-village in Massachusetts thought this pale-eyed orphan-boy to be an ill omen. Castiel had never been able to wrap his mind around why. But he had felt their wariness all of his life.  
  
_And they were right about me._  
  
Castiel balled his fists against his eyes, pressing at the ache until all he could see was darkness lit only by flashes of static lightning. Yellow- green - purply red pulsing on the black.  
  
Thinking of Rowena's undeserved kindness always led him to Crone Luc's justifiable cruelty.  
  
He was rumored to be Castiel's father at one time. And Crone Luc had beaten him within an inch of his life when Castiel asked about his mother, Eve. Her dying breath had been his name, a whisper, and then she had been gone.  
  
Everyone in the village had become more afraid of him that day.  
  
Castiel should have been dead. Crone Luc had blasted him across the community center- through the thick, stone wall. Castiel remembered the way his body felt as it crumpled against the rock. He felt the sharp snaps of breaking bone. He could hear it. He waited for his body to be too broken to live.  
  
And then the white glow had enveloped him. It flared out of all the cracks. Every shattered piece of him shone bright with it. And he had walked out of the hole he'd made more powerful than when he entered.  
  
And now he had muted his powers. Placed an internal lock on them and hidden away the key. He would never hurt anyone again.  
  
Castiel opened his eyes, and blinked the memories away as he glanced around the room. His fingers absently found the familiar scar above his left eye, his only physical scar from that day.  
  
He could smell the rain coming. A cold breeze brought its scent in, ruffling his dark bed-head, and reminded him exactly how hot he still felt. He dragged himself from his humid nest just as the sun was warming the horizon, and made his way to the bathroom on wobbly legs, determined to wash away the fevered memories with the cool waters of a shower.  
  
He hadn't had the nightmares in ages. He had known for a long time that he could't change anything, but he had gotten better at living with that fact.  
  
Castiel dressed in a pair of old, comfy jeans and a warm, navy-blue cotton shirt before heading out to the kitchen.  
  
He had a list of orders to fill for the small town about fifteen miles down the road. He traded with the farmers at the market there for the things he couldn't grow himself. And for noodles as well, his vice. He could make all sorts of pasta dishes, and even traded for a simple cup o' noodle once in awhile.  
  
Castiel’s stomach growled loudly.  
  
_I need to eat, and focus, plenty of things to do today._  
  
He was reaching for an apple from the bowl on the counter when he felt it: a crackle in the warding at the edge of his property.  
  
Something's wrong.  
  
A cry suddenly pierced the air and echoed across the clearing. Castiel jerked on his rain-boots and was out the door in seconds.  
  
  
**#####**  
  
  
Dean wasn't a small cat by any means. He was like a miniature, tawny panther, slinking through the tall grass.  
  
His hunting skills had been honed to perfection with each transformation. He liked this part of him, shaved down to pure instinct. Basic survival mode and no other motives. He took pride in being able to fish, catch rodents and birds. Exploring was his favorite thing.  
  
He enjoyed sneaking into the small villages along his travels to nowhere to steal sweet treats that had been left on window sills to cool. Blueberry pies were his favorite; apple pies coming in a close second. He would take the pastries away and gorged himself. He would then listen with a fully belly to the arguments that were had over the mysterious, vanished pies.  
  
In moments of boredom he liked to rouse the local hounds, get them riled and barking up a storm. Dean would be perched on a high post or fence, scaled a tree, any spot where he could be seen, yet was always just out of reach. He would then calmly lick himself clean as the dogs lost their minds howling and yipping trying to reach him.  
  
Through his travels, he had experienced every season in every region of the country.  
  
He was thankful that his essence helped protect him from the elements. Snow was fun and beautiful, however the winters were harsh. Spring time was refreshing even though the blooming flowers made his nose itch. The humidity in the summer was uncomfortable and sticky, yet it would slim him down during the season. The fall was his favorite however; he loved the colors that burst in the trees and the bright carpet they made when they shed their leaves to the ground. The lakes were always cool and the air brisk. It was a good traveling season. And Dean loves his travels. He had met various different creatures along the way, as well as other Familiars.  
  
As Dean reached the edge of a small clearing he began to feel a strange _pull_. He had never felt such a sensation before. It was like a warm hand had wrapped around his magic, was tugging through his fur to gently direct him towards a tiny cottage in the distance.  
  
Supernatural warding wasn't unfamiliar to him, and because of his lineage and kind he could see much more than an average magical creature. He's learned to use this to his advantage, and Dean could see from here that the house was heavily protected. He narrowed his eyes, studying the wards.  
  
They were strong, yet… _soft?_ They seemed as if they were meant to keep anything ominous out, while gravitating anything good towards them- like some magnet of purification.  
  
As Dean watched he began to notice the animals - many different kinds, all happily prancing, flying, and nibbling away inside the protective circle of the wards. He had met other solitary magical creatures on his journeys. Some supernatural. Most had been solitary because of their destructive nature or general foul dispositions. Dean didn't sense any of that here. He started to move again, the cottage luring him towards it.  
  
As he rounded a small thatch of trees Dean let his guard down. He howled in pain as sharp, metal jaws clamp around his paw. The teeth ripped through flesh and muscle, and as Dean felt the pressure of them against his bones he suddenly became terrified that he would lose his paw.  
  
He shifted his leg slightly, trying to get a better look at the trap, but screamed at the hot pain that flared through his body. Dean couldn't stay upright anymore, the pain was making him lightheaded, and his blood was seeping steadily into the dirt beneath his feet. He fell to the ground, wailing in agony as the rusty metal teared further through skin and tendons.  
  
All he could do was lie there. The pitiful whimpering he heard couldn't be coming from him, Dean thought dizzily. He tried to stop, tried to breathe, tried to focus his moss-green eyes on the trap. That was when it hit him - the trap was charged with magic - He could feel its dark poison flowing into his veins.  
  
_I'm going to die. I'm gonna die here._  
  
The warmth of the rising sun had been shrouded by incoming rain clouds. As a light drizzle began to fall, Dean lets his eyes slip shut.  
  
_So cold._  
  
The rain soaked his fur and turned the dirt to mud beneath him. He wasn't sure how long he had been laying there when he heard it. Someone was coming. He could hear their footfalls drawing closer and closer. However, he couldn't even open his eyes- the poison had paralyzed every muscle in his body. Dean didn't know if friend or foe approached, and wasn't sure he would even survive long enough to find out.  
  
  
**#####**  
  
  
Castiel ran to the outskirts of his warding and saw the motionless lump of fur at the edge of the tree line.  
  
_Damn hunters and their traps._ Castiel had found quite a few of them, both magical and non, set at the edges of the forest.  
  
This time one of the traps had caught cat. A large, tawny cat with one of its paws clutched in a barbaric contraption.  
  
Castiel sank to his knees in the mud beside the animal. It was still alive. He could see its chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. The snared paw looked badly damaged and upon closer inspection the witch saw a dark purple hue was bleeding out around the wound. The jagged, iron jaws were covered in the thick concoction.  
  
_Nightshade_  
  
He was sure of it. It was deadly to humans and animals, as well as supernatural creatures. From the looks of the poor feline, and when he heard its cry, Castiel had no doubt that whatever other components had been mixed with were intended to speed up the effects of the poison.  
  
Gently, he placed his left hand over the cat’s core, concentrating his magic on helping the animal breath, as well as trying to extract the toxins from its bloodstream. His right hand hovered above the injured paw, as he began to open the trap slowly, trying to minimize any damage that releasing it could cause. The whine of the metal couldn’t cover the weak mewl that escaped the animal. Castiel's heart constricted at the sound.  
  
It was slow work, retracting the bite of the inch-long, iron teeth, but he wasn't about to let this animal die.  
  
Fresh blood gurgled up as the metal slid out of the wound, and the poison began to ooze out along with it.  
  
Sweat beads gathered along Castiel’s brow. He was using more magic than his inner band allowed, and he could feel the exertion beginning to take its toll. The rain was colder than it should have been, and it was as if it was soaking him down to his bones.  
  
The cat's breathing was steadily improving as the venom was purged, and after what felt like an agonizingly long amount of time, Castiel finally was able to removed the trap entirely. In a burst of rage he launched the thing into the air and set it ablaze. The iron screeched as it reduced to dust.  
  
It was a satisfying sound, yet had taken too much out of him. He fell forward, barely able to hold himself up as he continued to purify the feline’s blood. The wound was bad, but he knew it would heal fine as long as he managed to extract all of the nightshade.  
  
Once he was satisfied that the animal was out of immediate danger, Castiel took a moment to breathe and gathering his strength. He stood on shaky legs and carefully scooped the cat into his arms, turning back towards the cottage.  
  
The work order would have to wait.  
  
  
**#####**  
  
  
It was throbbing, which meant he was alive.  
  
Dean pried his eyes open; his vertical pupils shrank quickly to slits at the blinding afternoon sun. He groaned internally as he tried to flex his injured paw. He was relieved when his claws extend and retract. His mind felt hazy, and he lifted his head slowly to take in his surroundings.  
  
He was inside of a home, lying on a makeshift bed of blankets and pillows underneath a large bay window.  
  
It was cozy. The warm air smelled of lavender and cedarwood. The whole place was neat, and filled with various woodgrains and bright fabrics; books lined the shelves around a cold fireplace. Many of them looked quite old. An ornate spiral staircase on the opposite end of the room piqued Dean's interest. He was achy and exhausted but his curiosity was too great for him not to explore.  
  
He managed to raise his paw and saw that it was neatly bandaged. Someone had clearly been taking care of him; which was a blessing, since he knew that shifting in his injured state would risk complications in the healing of his hand.  
  
His jaw cracked as he yawned wide, and Dean gathered enough energy to stand, eager to explore what he figured to be the magical cottage he had spotted before he had gotten so careless. He was equally eager to meet the witch who lived here.  
  
_Or witches._  
  
The magic that radiated from the house felt so _pure_ to Dean. The wards that he had noticed were ones he'd seen before, but it was always a complicated blend of magical essences.  
  
This magic signature was so singular, so natural and elemental, that he felt sure he would find only one witch here, even with the strength he felt emanating from the enchantments.  
  
“Oh good, you’re awake.”  
  
The cheerful gravel perked Dean's ears.  
  
He glanced in its direction to see a man descending the spiral stairs. Dean recognized his power right away; it was the warmth he felt all around him. Yet, something was _off_. It was the same _muted_ energy of the wards.  
  
The man smiled gently at him as he approached. He looked to be in his mid-thirties and was-  
  
_Attractive_. Very _attractive._  
  
The breathless thought took Dean by surprise.  
  
“Hello kitty. Aren’t you beautiful?”  
  
If Dean could have blushed in this form he would have been crimson.  
  
The witch was actually stunning as he sank to his knees beside Dean's makeshift bed. He had a messy tousle of dark-chocolate hair, fair skin with just a kiss of sun, and eyes so impossibly blue and penetrating that Dean felt like he was falling, helplessly, into the sky itself.  
  
All of it made Dean's motor start.  
  
“Oh, aren't you a purr-box?” The man's grin was dazzling up-close. The witch reached a steady hand towards Dean, letting him sniff the tips of his fingers. Dean liked the scent. It was earthy, and fresh like clean, crisp linens.  
  
_Ohh that's nice._ Dean nudges against the fingers, encouraging the man to keep going. He couldn't remember the last time he had been petted.  
  
“You like that, huh?” The man's cobalt eyes danced with quiet laughter.  
  
_Beautiful_  
  
Dean meowed enthusiastically, which earned him an actual giggle. He purred louder as the witch scratched harder.  
  
“I'll take that as a yes.”  
  
The witch crooked his fingers to rub under Dean's chin, petting down his rumbling chest to scratch at the chub of his tummy with a pleased smirk.  
  
“You must be starving. I'll get you something solid to eat and then we'll re-bandage your paw. It's healing very nicely.”  
  
He gave Dean one more pet and another radiant smile before he stood and headed towards the kitchen.  
  
As Dean watched him go, two thoughts permeated his foggy brain; he was not happy with his chubby tummy, and the witch didn't seem to realize he was a Familiar. Maybe because of whatever was going on with the witch’s magic? Dean wasn't sure.  
  
He adjusted himself into a comfortable position and watched the witch fuss around the small kitchen. Dean noticed a large stock of dried noodles when he opened and closed one of the cupboards.  
  
It wasn’t long before the cottage was filled with the delicious aroma of food- hearty pasta and fish. Dean's stomach growled embarrassingly loud as a plate full of fresh-caught salmon was sat in front of him, and the blue-eyed witch chuckled again quietly.  
  
“There you go.”  
  
The man sat back on his haunches and watched as Dean greedily devoured the food. It was fantastic, and his appreciation seemed to please the witch, who smiled sweetly at him and ran a gentle hand down his spine.  
  
Dean could definitely get used to this.  
  
  
**#####**  
  
  
It had been a little over two weeks since Castiel rescued the cat, who was presently basking in the sun falling over the sofa, tail slapping lazily at the air. Castiel could hear his purr from where he was perched at the kitchen counter, taking inventory. He smirked, and looked down at his list.  
  
_Running low on noodles._  
  
He jotted a note; he would have to buy or trade soon.  
  
The taste, texture and versatility of pasta had made it his absolute favorite food, and Castiel hated to run out.  
  
The sound of a yawn drew his gaze back to his new, furry friend.  
  
“You need a name. I can't just keep calling you _cat._ ”  
  
The animal finished his stretch and sat upright, eyeing him expectantly. Castiel glanced at his grocery list, an amused smile tilting his lips before he tossed it onto the counter. He hopped off the stool and joined the cat on the sofa, running a hand through his soft fur and earning a pleased _meow._ The purring intensified as Castiel scratched roughly under his chin and around his neck.  
  
Castiel huffed a laugh at the animal's antics as he weaved his head back and forth, seeking as much contact with Castiel's fingers as he could get.  
  
“Hmm, you like that, do you?”  
  
The cat meowed earnestly, and pinned his sated green eyes on Castiel. They were a beautiful emerald flecked with gold.  
  
“Such a pretty kitty,” He murmured. He caressed the cat's short, tawny coat, and huffed a silent laugh at the twitch in the long, white whiskers.  
  
“I’m going to call you Noodle,” Castiel announced with a satisfied smirk. The look his declaration earned startled him. The cat actually looked insulted… Castiel threw his head back with a full bodied laugh, earning him a sharp, green glare. He ruffled the cat's ears.  
  
“Yes, Noodle it is.”  
  
  
**#####**  
  
  
_Noodle?!_  
  
He was not a damn noodle! Dean groaned internally. Out of all the damn names this pretty witch could've chosen… seriously.  
  
_Noodle._  
  
Dean sighed and stretched back out with a glare at the very clearly amused witch.  
  
_Fine. Just wait ‘til I can shift. Show you who's a damn noodle..._  
  
  
**#####**  
  
  
Castiel had grown to love the company of the large, affectionate feline. Since his paw had been healing, Noodle had taken to wandering around the cottage after him. He found himself talking to the cat more and more, and was always amused that Noodle seemed to understand and respond. It felt as if he had found a friend.  
  
Noodle was also an excellent cuddle-partner.  
  
Castiel liked to collect him at bedtime. The cat would snuggled into his chest beneath the blankets, his motor vibrating against Castiel's sternum and lulling him into some of the deepest, most peaceful sleep he had ever had.  
  
It had only been a month, but it felt like Noodle belonged here.  
  
However, Castiel could do without the _gifts_ Noodle liked to bestows upon him. More than once he had sat down to fill his orders of charms, soaps, or herbal remedies, to find a dead mouse or headless lizard on his workstation.  
  
The first time he had found a dead mouse, Castiel had let out a very embarrassing yelp. After that the cat seemed to get some sort of twisted pleasure from scaring Castiel with the tiny corpses. The poor bird on his bed had been the final straw. He had chastised Noodle, wagging finger and no-nonsense tone, and he would have sworn five, old crones that the cat had rolled its eyes at him. Noodle had then promptly thrust his tail straight up at Castiel in a snub, and turned in a haughty circle to settle on Castiel's pillow. He had growled at the beast, and grumbled to himself as he disposed of the bird's body, hoping that it at least hadn’t suffered too much.  
  
Then there was the food-theft.  
  
Noodle would sit like a statue in front of him as he ate. He would then sneakily paw at his plate whenever Castiel was distracted. He managed to steal food more often than not, and would then stretch out, cleaning himself right there on the kitchen table; those fern-green eyes watching intently as Castiel finished whatever was left of his meal.  
  
He found himself sticking his tongue out at the cat far too often to be considered mature. The animal just brought something out in him. Castiel couldn’t deny that Noodle was a hell of a character.  
  
There were times, however, when the cat's attentions were a bit much; like when he decided he needed Castiel's company even though he was sleeping. The cat would paw at his mouth and nose, interrupting his breathing enough that Castiel would wake with a start- groggily shouting Noodle! as he attempted to glare intimidatingly. Yet the beast would then sprawl himself across his chest, rolling around like some demonic fluff-ball, and revving his engine. Of course, Castiel couldn't resist carding his fingers through the soft fur and cuddled the cat into his arms. With the nuisance quickly forgiven, Castiel drifted back to sleep with the rumbling weight of his friend against him.  
  
There was also the fact that Noodle watched him bathe. He couldn’t seem to keep the cat out of the bathroom when he showered. His emerald eyes fervently studied Castiel, the gold flecks in them glinting. The look was almost predatory. He's found himself blushing from it on more than one occasion, only to then scold himself each time. It was completely ridiculous for him to feel shy in front of a cat. He refused to let himself be flustered by the mischievous creature.  
  
  
**#####**  
  
  
The past six weeks had been _Perfect._  
  
Dean enjoyed every moment he spent with the witch. _Castiel_. He was pleased to finally learn the name from one of the witch’s many spell-books.  
  
Castiel made him happy.  
  
Whether he was cuddling Dean, feeding him, or grousing about his devilish antics, everything the man did made Dean-  
  
_Happy._  
  
Dean couldn't remember the last time he felt so taken care of, the last time he felt the urge to stay somewhere. Yet, he wanted to stay here. His paw was fully healed and he knew he would have to shift soon. His skin was itching with the need to stretch his form, however, he was nervous about what Castiel's reaction would be.  
  
It didn't exactly help that Dean's favorite thing involved invading the man's privacy. He just couldn't help himself. The witch was so incredibly sexy, and it brought something primal out in Dean. His perfect, unblemished skin and toned body made Dean imagine all the things he would like to do to him. The way the muscles of his back moved as he bathed, the dip just above the swell of that bitable ass… it all made Dean _hungry._ It was getting worse each time. He was sure Castiel could sense it. The witch would glance over his shoulder as Dean watched him, a slight flush prettily coloring his cheeks.  
  
It still baffled him as to why the witch couldn't seem to sense that he was a Familiar though. It _must_ have had something to do with the mute on his magic. It was either that, or he had never encountered a Familiar before. Dean found it hard to believe, considering witches and Familiars had migrated together for centuries. No, something was off about Castiel. There was a bind of some sort on his magic, and it seemed to be a powerful one.  
  
Dean watched as the witch finished loading his homemade wares into a wicker basket on his robin-egg blue bicycle. He glanced back at the cottage and smiled brightly at Dean lounging in the window.  
  
“Bye Noodle!”  
  
Castiel tossed a lazy wave his way and mounted the bike, throwing one more look over his shoulder before he started down the dirt path towards the local village.  
  
Dean flicked his tail against the window-sill.  
  
_Noodle. _  
  
He had to take care of this.  
  
  
**#####**  
  
  
Castiel had always enjoyed going to the market. It was a leisurely hour ride in both directions, and he tended to stay the day when he made the trips, once or twice a week. Most of the neighbors were very friendly, and his homemade soaps and herbal remedies were quite popular; it was always amusing to catch a wink or knowing smile from other supernatural creatures overhearing his human customers gush about the efficacy of his concoctions.  
  
However, over the past few weeks he had found himself reluctant to stay away the whole day… or even to leave his cottage in the first place. He knew it was ridiculous. He knew that there wasn't any reason to feel guilty for leaving Noodle alone. He also knew that, that was really just an excuse- he didn't want to leave because he missed the darn cat. Noodle just made him so _happy._  
  
Castiel smiled at the thought, of the warm, full feeling in his chest. He had a friend, and it was unfamiliar and wonderful.  
  
He felt a pang of longing as he looked around his stall. He could have brought Noodle with him… He was pretty sure the cat would have loved the market, and would have found plenty of things to get into.  
  
A sudden, cool breeze ruffled Castiel's hair. The clouds in the distance were dark and the air smelled electric. It was going to rain soon, and hard. Castiel sighed. He would get caught in the coming storm on the ride home.  
  
“Castiel! How are you?”  
  
Castiel turned to see the beaming face of one of his favorite customers.  
  
“Mrs. Missouri,” Castiel smiled. “I’m very good, thank you, and how are you today?” Castiel reached over and slid the bar of citrus and honey soap he'd made just for her into the basket on her arm.  
  
“Well I’m just wonderful now that I got my soap!” She boasted as she handed Castiel a few bills.  
  
“I’m glad you're so happy with it.” He grinned modestly. He loved Mrs. Missouri’s energy; she was a positive force to be reckoned with.  
  
At the moment, she was looking at him over with pure interest.  
  
“Well now, something is different about you...”  
  
Missouri squinted as she studied Castiel's face. After a heartbeat, her eyes widen in realization.  
  
“You look older!” She smiled broadly. “Why, you even have some salt and pepper starting at your sideburns.” Missouri shook her head with a soft hum. “Ha! I guess that means I’m getting _very_ old.” She patted his hand and turned down the path to continue her shopping. “I'll see you next time sweetie, you take care.”  
  
Castiel managed to bid her farewell through his racing thoughts.  
  
_Salt and pepper??_  
  
He rushed over to his neighbor’s stall and gasped at the reflection staring back at him from one of her seashell-encrusted wall mirrors.  
  
Missouri had not been lying.  
  
Castiel ran his fingers over the greying hair at his temples, and around his eyes-  
  
_Crows feet??_  
  
He scoffed… What was going on? How the _hell_ was he aging?  
  
Panic was starting to set in. He had to calm down. He had to breathe. There was a logical explanation for this. Castiel slumped onto a nearby stool, dragging a shaky hand down his face.  
  
  
_///He was nine-years-old. Picking herbs in Crone Rowena’s garden. The day was warm, and the soft breeze stirred the scent of sunflowers into the air. Crone Rowena was telling him stories as they worked, like she always did. This one was about Eternal, or The Gift, as some species called it.  
_  
_It was the tale of soulmates.  
_  
_Supernatural creatures aged physically until they reach tricenarian, when only their souls continued to age. It was believed that soulmates were born at the same time, on the same day, in the same year. Only the lucky ones would find each other.  
_  
_Castiel clipped a sprig of rosemary and stared at it thoughtfully.  
_  
_“How would you know if you've found your soulmate?”_  
  
_Crone Rowena smiled, and said simply-_  
  
_“You'll begin to age again.”///  
_  
  
Castiel stood and faced the mirror, blue eyes frantic.  
  
_I'm aging._  
  
He took a quick assessment of his body, of his energy. There were no added marks, no weight of foreign magic. He stared at his dazed reflection, barely registering the concerned voice of the stall's owner as she asked him if everything was alright.  
  
Castiel stumbled back to his own stand. A flash of lightning drew his eyes to the sky, and the crack of thunder which followed was like a jolt to his heart. Realization suddenly shook him to his core.  
  
The only new thing, the only change he had made to his life in years was… Noodle.  
  
  
**#####**  
  
  
“Well shit.”  
  
Dean snorted at his reflection. It had taken him a long time to shift. He had gone without doing it at all for way longer than he ever had before. Now he was standing nude in front of the bathroom mirror, stroking the lines around his eyes softly. His freckles look darker. Grey was peeking around the edge of his temples. A storm raged outside, yet Dean's heart was calm. He felt like purring.  
  
_The Gift_  
  
The ancient bond of soulmates had graced Dean’s family tree a few times already. His father and mother, both familiars, had found one another early. It had been clear they were soulmates. Along came Dean, and then his little brother Sam. Their parents grew old together, and left them far too soon. He had wanted to find anger in that, but couldn't. His parents had lived so happily together, had found something so rare and beautiful… They had shown him what the power of love, friendship, and understanding was.  
  
Dean and Sam had taken care of one another, stuck together, just the two of them, for sixty years. Then _The Gift_ had found the Winchesters once again. Sam fell in love with a pretty witch named Pamela. Dean watched him grow older, and it killed him a little bit. He had never let himself think about the possibility, never let himself imagine his little brother grey and wrinkled. Never let himself think that one day Sam might leave him too.  
  
They had children, and their children had children. Sam and Pamela were happy, and losing them felt like losing his last real ties to a family. There had not been an ounce of magic in their descendants, and eventually Dean had to distance himself. He protected his fading family from afar.  
  
Loneliness had settled deep in his heart then. He had fallen in love too many times over the centuries, but he had never aged a day. He watched former lovers find their own soulmates and happily grow old.  
  
_Centuries…_  
  
Dean hadn’t chosen to close his heart off from the world, it had curled in on itself.  
  
It was easier to be a cat. He didn't have to worry about humans, about surviving not only the world, but society. He didn't have to subject himself to _couples._ To expectations. He had no one to answer to, and no one to consider besides himself.  
  
_Until now. Until Castiel._  
  
Dean smirked at his reflection.  
  
_It's finally my turn._  
  
  
**#####**  
  
  
Castiel was drenched by the time he finally walked through the door of his cottage. He knew he had to deal with his revelation, but first he needed a hot shower. Shivering, he peeled off his soaked jacket and hung it in the entrance. Noodle was nowhere in sight as he hurried to the bathroom on trembling legs. Maybe that was for the best. Castiel needed to warm up and settle down before he could decide what to do next.  
  
The sound of running water permeated his racing brain as he turned the doorknob. Castiel’s heartbeat sped up as he pushed the door open warily.  
  
_There's a God in my shower._  
  
Castiel stood frozen, jaw slack, and wide, pale eyes glued to the vision standing under the steady stream of his shower.  
  
A man, a _beautiful_ man, was lathering his muscular frame with Castiel's soap. Sandalwood and eucalyptus drifted in the steamy air, and a primal scent-connection sparked in Castiel's brain. The man's skin was sun-kissed; freckles peppered every surface, and Castiel wanted to map their constellations with his fingers. His eyes slid up the stretch of the man's back- the strong, lean, speckled lines of his body made Castiel swallow a lump rising in his throat. He wet his slips unconsciously at the sharp line of the man's jaw, begging to be nipped or nuzzled. Castiel had completely forgotten how cold and wet he was. Had even forgotten about the dilemma that had been raging in his mind. All he could think about was just how incredibly lonely he had been for so long...  
  
“Noodle?” The question barely a whisper.  
  
The man turned around, and the smile he gave Castiel was amused, yet predatory. The power of it made Castiel’s knees buckle. The glint in the bright, moss green eyes told Castiel what he already knew. There was no doubt now. The idea that he had been trying to squelch since he had looked at himself in that marketplace mirror was the only real explanation.  
  
Noodle was a Familiar.  
  
“About that, it's Dean actually.” Came the reply, caressed in a southern drawl accent. “Looks like you need to warm up.”  
  
Dean nodded at his sopping clothes. For a terrifying, thrilling moment Castiel thought it was an invitation. The familiar mused as he left the hot water running as he stepped out of the shower and grabbed one of the hanging towels to wrap around himself.  
  
“I'm done here, if you wanna hop in.” He flashed another smile and rubbed the cotton briskly over his damp hair, before wrapping the towel around his waist.  
  
_His waist…_  
  
Castiel swallowed again.  
  
“Um, yes. Yes. I need to,” Castiel stumbled, as he peeled his shirt off with unsteady hands.  
  
Dean stopped in front of him on his way to the door. He was a bit taller than Castiel, and as the witch looked up those few inches between them, he found himself lost in the intense fern and gold of Dean's eyes. Of Noodle's eyes.  
  
The Familiar smirked sweetly, and reached up to gently brush the hair at Castiel’s temple. His grin smoothed into a warm, pleased smile. Castiel's heart swelled.  
  
“We can talk when you're done.” Dean's fingers trailed softly down his cheek as he pulled away. Castiel watched him go, and he knew the smile that graced his face was brighter than the sun.  
  
  
**#####**  
  
  
Castiel found Dean sitting in the living room, dressed in a pair of Castiel’s sweatpants and a t-shirt that was a bit tight across his chest and arms.  
  
Dean gestured at himself. “I’ll need to get some clothes. I haven’t shifted around people in a while, haven't needed any.”  
  
Castiel could only nod. He made his way slowly to the couch and sank down beside the Familiar. This was all so surreal. His eyes trailed down to where the injured paw would be. A jagged, pink scar marred the skin across the back of the very human hand there.  
  
Dean noticed his gaze and held his hand out for closer inspection. Castiel traced his fingers over the angry scar.  
  
“Thank you, for saving me.”  
  
Castiel jerked his eyes to Dean's face. The intense sincerity in those fairy-tale eyes took his breath away. He could feel the heat of a blush creeping up his neck.  
  
“I- I couldn’t just leave you there,” Castiel whispered. He wasn’t sure why he was whispering.  
  
Dean couldn't seem to look away from him; blue and green were locked together, electricity humming between them. He glanced down at Castiel's mouth and licked his lips.  
  
Castiel took a shaky breath.  
  
Dean reached out and twined their fingers together. The light touch sent a ripple through them, the essences of their magic leaped at each other's cores; a thrill climbed up their spines and they gasped softly in unison, clasping their joined hands tighter.  
  
Castiel let his eyes slip shut.  
  
It felt so good.  
  
Dean's magic was caressing him, wrapping around him in what he could only describe as a hug. It was strong and warm, and he could feel his own magic stroking back, reaching for Dean like desperate hands, pulling him closer.  
  
  
**#####**  
  
  
_So beautiful._  
  
Dean trembled as he watched Castiel’s reaction to his magic. His eyes were closed. Plush, pink lips parted softly. The pull Dean had felt in that clearing weeks ago slammed into him again and he eagerly basked in it. With his free hand he reached up and cupped Castiel’s cheek, earning a dazed pair of cobalt eyes blinking up at him. The shy longing in them made Dean smile. He leaned forward, and pressed his lips to the pretty mouth like he had dreamed of doing a thousand times.  
  
Castiel pressed back with a sigh, and Dean moaned softly as he felt the witch’s lips parted under his. He slipped his tongue between them, gently lapping into the wet heat of Castiel's mouth. He groaned against.  
  
Castiel gripped the hair at the base of his skull and crashed their mouths together, hungrily licking back.  
  
Their magics pulsed against one another like living organs. Warmth like life-blood mixing and blending. Filling every empty, cold, part of their souls. The hot, aching swell of it consumed them.  
  
If either of them had had any doubt left of The Gift, it burned out in a pop and sizzled as their lips slowly parted.  
  
“So. I guess it's official.” Dean smiled.  
  
“I honestly never thought this was possible.” Castiel murmured against his lips as he leaned in again. It was like a static buzz where their mouths brushed.  
  
“I, um, I’d kinda given up hope myself, to be honest.” Dean whispered. He swallowed, flicking his gaze between Castiel's lips and his sated, sky-blue eyes. His thumb was rubbing meditative circles on the skin of Castiel's hand.  
  
“Is that why you don't shift around people?” The question was tentative.  
  
Dean laughed quietly, and looked down at their joined hands. He then pinned Castiel with an earnest stare.  
  
  
**#####**  
  
  
Dean’s pupils slit, and for a brief moment, Castiel was gazing into Noodle's familiar eyes, and then, like that, they were dark orbs again.  
  
“Yeah.” Dean stroked loving fingers over Castiel's cheek, before he slid them into his hair. “It's just easier.”  
  
Castiel knew the loneliness he could hear from Dean's tone. He knew that edge of pain. He placed a hand on Dean's waist, and pulled him, chest-to-chest, so close that he could feel the beat of his heart beneath the cotton of his shirt.  
  
“I have to know. Why do you have a bind?”  
  
All the fresh, warm blood thrumming through him suddenly ran cold. Dean pulled back in surprise. Castiel realized he had stiffened, his hand clenched in the fabric at Dean's hip.  
  
Castiel knew he had to tell Dean everything. He wanted the Familiar to share everything about himself, he knew he would have to reciprocate. But he hadn't said these words to another person. He didn't know if he could. What happened if your Eternal rejected you?  
  
Castiel loosened his grip and pulled away. He stood slowly. If he was going to do this he had to calm down. He had to breathe. He couldn't look at the confused worry in Dean's beautiful eyes. His blood thumped with shame and fear. It pounded in his ears.  
  
_Blood._  
  
Castiel sucked in a breath.  
  
_So much blood._  
  
“Cas?”  
  
The voice sounded miles away, but he turned towards it.  
  
“CAS.”  
  
_Dean._  
  
_Dean-_  
  
Dean was in front of him, his eyes fought the worry from them to show Castiel he could be calm. A sweet smile was on his lips, like he was telling Castiel he could be happy. Everything was okay. Dean's face said everything is okay.  
  
“Whatever it is, Cas, it's okay.” The Familiar cupped his face gently in his palms, and thumbed away tears Castiel didn't remember crying. “I promise, it'll be okay. You have to talk to me.”  
  
Castiel felt dizzy. His mate’s eyes made him dizzy. They were concerned and sincere and _so so green._  
  
“Noodle.”  
  
Castiel laughed. It was really so funny. Noodle wouldn't judge him.  
  
The gold flecks in the green danced in amusement.  
  
“If that helps.” Dean smiled cheekily and flickered his eyes once again.  
  
It was comforting somehow.  
  
Castiel laughed. He touched Dean's face tenderly with the pads of his fingers, and grinned when the man nuzzled against them.  
  
He took a deep, stuttering breath.  
  
“Let's sit back down.” Dean dropped his hands from Castiel's face and laced their fingers together, tugging him towards the couch. They sat pressed together, hands joined tightly, and the warmth that radiated off of Dean gave him courage.  
  
“I was sixteen.” Castiel swallowed, and Dean squeezed his hand. He squeezed back and breathed deeply.  
  
“I- I was careless. I was stupid. My magic developed a bit faster than the other kids in the village, and I was a show-off.” The words were a bitter accusation.  
  
“I only had two friends, really. Inias and Alfie. They were my age…” Castiel closed his eyes, he could see their young faces.  
  
“We were playing in the woods, just inside the borders of the Ombudsmen's patrol. I was so stupid, so stupid…” The tears fell freely now from under the dark fringe of his lashes. Castiel didn't realize he was shaking his head until he felt Dean grip his chin and turn his face.  
  
“Look at me, Cas. Whatever it is, it’ll be okay.” And Castiel knew he could trust the words. He opened his eyes and Dean's face was blurry with tears. He closed them again and a thumb rubbed across his lids and wiped the tears away.  
  
“I was proving to them that _I_ could be an Ombudsman. I could already use my magic as a weapon, and the Crones told me over and over that it was something a witch had no place knowing until they'd been placed.”  
  
“Placed?”  
  
“It’s when the Crones test you to see what type of magic you'll excel in.”  
  
The Familiar nodded in understanding.  
  
“I was able to freeze things. I was forming icicles, throwing them like darts into the trees. Making them chase Inias and Alfie- ”  
  
Castiel stopped, fresh tears stung his eyes.  
  
“We were laughing. Laughing so much- ” The word broke with a sob, and the memory crashed down and drowned him like a wave.  
  
  
_///The air was bitterly cold. Alfie and Inias were cackling, zig-zagging around the clearing to avoid his icy daggers. They countered with deflective magic, but he was better, and he knew the only thing that kept his targets from landing was his control. He flung the icicles against a tree as Inias took a sharp right, he laughed like Castiel had missed him due to his own cunning. He grinned at his friends antics, and spun more icicles into the thin air and sent them after them. He diverged their paths, and directed them after both boys as they ran in opposite directions. Inias slipped on the packed snow and the bullets flew over him and crashed to powder on the wide trunk of a tree. The boy groaned at the impact and laughed as he rolled over onto his back. Castiel laughed and glanced at Alfie, his icicles still flew after him as he darted through the snow.  
_  
_And then Castiel felt it. His power was swelling up inside of him and an instant fear clawed at his heart, his magic burst forth, and surged towards his friend. He could hear himself scream. His body was a white-hot glow. He pulled back against it, and tried to contain it with everything in him. He heard another scream. And then a piercing hum.  
_  
_He was on the ground when he came to. He heard screaming, but it was faint in his throbbing head. Castiel rolled onto his knees and dragged himself up heavily. It was Inias. Inias was screaming. And Castiel's own screams echoed in the air when he saw why.  
_  
_“No! NO!” Castiel stumbled over to where Alfie laid, face down in the snow, blood blossomed around him from the massive splinters of ice that had pierced him. Bile rose in Castiel's throat and he emptied his stomach into the bushes, and fell backward to the ground as he sucked in lungfuls of air. He had killed him.///_  
  
  
“I _killed_ him,” Castiel sobbed, face buried in Dean's warm chest. The man's arms were wrapped tightly around him, the only thing that kept him from shaking apart.  
  
“Alfie died because of me. I couldn’t control my magic, and now- now he's gone.” Castiel choked on the pain, on the guilt that rose in his throat.  
  
Dean held him tighter and rubbed a soothing hand up and down his back. He cradled his head against him with the other. He made a soft _shhh_ as he rocked Castiel gently.  
  
“You placed the bind on yourself, didn’t you?” It was a whisper.  
  
Castiel nodded, turning and burrowing into Dean's shoulder. He puffed steadying breaths against his mate's neck.  
  
“Cas...you were a kid…”  
  
Dean was quiet for a moment, then-  
  
“I won’t ask you to release your bind if you don’t want to, but I can help you wield your magic again.” He kissed Castiel's temple firmly and held his lips against the skin there.”You have me now. Nothing like that will ever happen again.”  
  
Castiel raised his head, searching the forest of Dean's eyes. The gold glints were like sunlight trickling through the leaves. And Castiel found peace in their warmth.  
  
“Maybe one day, when I'm ready.”  
  
“When you're ready,” Dean assured, and he pressed their lips together softly.  
  
  
**#####**  
  
  
Castiel woke with the sun on his face. He stretched his arms above his head and felt Dean snuggle in closely from behind and plant a kiss at the nape of his neck.  
  
Everything between them was simple and right. Every day was a new wave of peace that washed over him from his mate's essence. Castiel didn't know how he ever lived without it. Didn't know how he was blessed with it.  
  
He pulled Dean's arms around him tightly.  
  
They didn't need words, Castiel could feel the love that emanated from the Familiar. Every moment he could feel it.  
  
And it was healing him.  
  
Healing Noodle's paw seemed so _small_ in comparison.  
  
Dean, Dean was healing his soul.  
  
Castiel closed his eyes and basked in the warmth all around him.  
  
  
**End**__


End file.
